


I'm Sorry

by Theatrically_scattered



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatrically_scattered/pseuds/Theatrically_scattered
Summary: Victor injures himself while coaching Yuuri.Yuuri nor the world takes it well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In case you missed the tags, please read with caution since this fic includes self harm and if u aint about that pls don't read! Don't make yourself sad for no reason :c

Yuuri hated himself.

Yuuri was so stupid it was laughable.

He couldn't land a Salchow no matter how many times he had Victor show it to him. Even when Victor was fatigued, he asked to show him again.

That was his mistake.

Victor fell.

Victor was tired enough to over rotate and fall onto the ice. He couldn't stand on his own properly. Yuuri helped him out and got him to a nearby hospital.

Victor Nikiforov, the five-time winner of the Grand Prix, had a broken ankle.

All because of Yuuri and his inability to land a damn Salchow.

The media showed no mercy towards Yuuri, even if they didn't know the exact cause of Victor's injury. All they needed was to know Victor was injured while training Yuuri.

Yuri was perhaps the most vicious amongst the people giving Yuuri hell. He even blew off training with his new coach just to visit Victor. Victor kept playing off Yuri's concern, waving it off as if he had just spilt water on his shirt instead of breaking a part of his body crucial to him.

"This is all your damn fault. If he were my coach, he wouldn't be injured. How much more proof do you need to see that you should just retire?" Yuri snarled at Yuuri one day.

Yuuri couldn't speak. Yuri was right. Was this a sign? Is this the universe's way of saying he should give up skating? His head was swimming with so many thoughts that he felt dizzy. He was sure he was even going to vomit.  
__________________

Yuuri couldn't sleep.

His eyes kept drifting back to Victor's sleeping body in the bed next to him. It traced his figure all the way to the cast around his foot. Yuuri felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach.

Sitting up, Yuuri reached for his duffel bag. He searched around in the pockets until he felt a familiar smooth bag. He grabbed it and rushed as quietly as he could to the bathroom.

Turning on the lights, he laid the bag flat against the marble surface of the sink. He was grateful that even with Victor shopping like he had all the money in the world, he never noticed Yuuri pay so little for a piece of metal.

Yuuri had thought about what it would feel like. Now he had the perfect chance to try it.

He sat himself on the toilet, and placed the razor blade against the untarnished skin of his thigh. His heart hammered against his ribcage, his hands were shaking.

'This is all your damn fault.' Yuri's voice rang in his head.

Yuuri began to drag the blade. He hissed, but felt strangely at peace when he saw blood began to bead from the cut.

Yuuri recalled all the stories he had read on news sites of Victor's injury. He remembered all the comments of his fans.

'This is unforgivable!'

'First, he takes him away from performing, now he injures him?!'

'Yuuri Katsuki is the bane of figure skating!!'

'Yuuri should just retire to save Victor.'

Each thing he remembered, he made a new cut. It stung, but not as harshly as before. The pain was welcoming, a fitting response to the pain he caused Victor.

He faintly registered he was laughing to himself.

He moved on to his other thigh, guilt fueling his blade by remembering his failure of last year. All the disappointment he caused to everyone. He was a disgrace to his home and his nation.

Staring at the blood on his legs, Yuuri felt at peace. He felt as though he made up for what he's done. Not entirely, oh no, him still being able to skate is a crime to the world. He'd break his own legs if he had the choice, but Victor worked so hard for him. He couldn't do that. Yuuri would have to atone to Victor in his own way. And cutting was it.

Yuuri made his way back to his bed after cleaning himself and his razor. Quietly, he sat back in bed when a thought occurred. He couldn't put the razor back in his duffle. Victor wasn't stupid. He'd probably noticed Yuuri get up and go to the bathroom. Yuuri felt dread settle in his heart. Victor wouldn't understand. Yuuri had to hide it. But where? Feeling around as best he could in the dark, Yuuri settled for underneath a corner of the mattress. If anything, Yuuri could play it off as something of a previous guest.

His razor safely hidden, Yuuri willed himself to sleep.  
___________________________

If he was being honest, Yuuri felt better when he bled. The pain he inflicted on himself, he thought, was the perfect punishment for hurting Victor and the skating community. His thighs had new cuts every few days. He moved on to the underside of arms, close enough to his armpits that he could still hide them. Yuuri thought about other parts he could cut as well when he was on the ice. His stomach? No, too visible. Arms? Maybe, if he managed to wear long sleeves all the time. He could, considering his outfits all had long sleeves.

Yuri still berated him for Victor's ankle. Yuuri took the young Russian's words calmly, then would escape to somewhere he was certain he wouldn't be bothered and cut. It was almost therapeutic in a twisted way. He carried his razor with him everywhere, having it ready for when he felt he had to use it.

Yuuri also improved his acting skills.

Around others, he had to put on the facade that he was just wallowing in pity and remorse for Victor (which he was), but would smile and do his best for Victor. He pretended to be interested in the conversations he was having with Chris, Phichit, and the other skaters. But he felt a few lingering stares; From Phichit and surprisingly Otabek.

One day, while resting in their hotel room, Yuuri felt his anxiety creeping its way into his thoughts. He grabbed his skates and left Victor without so much as a "goodbye."

Arriving at the ice rink, he laced up his skates and made his way to the ice. He glided along the surface, focusing on the scraping of his blades against the ice. His mind wandered to many places, none of them pleasant. Nothing new, his anxiety and ridiculously non-existent self-worth always guaranteed unpleasant thoughts. It was particularly strong today, and he felt the razor in his pocket grow heavier and heavier.

Yuuri brought himself to stop in the middle of the ice, shedding his jacket to tie around his waist. He fished the small bit of metal from his pocket and brought it to his raised arm. Yuuri paused.

Yuuri let his mind grow louder. He let his thoughts become the words of people who hated him, what he'd done to Victor, the words of Yuri, the looks he and Yakov sent him.

He slid the blade quickly across his skin. He took in the sight of bright red staining his skin. Yuuri let out a small breath and laughed softly at himself. Covering his wound, he applied pressure to stop the bleeding before he stained the ice.

Yuuri never noticed someone behind him, watching from behind the rink's walls. He didn't see the look of confusion on a young skater's face as they took in Yuuri's still figure on the ice. He didn't see the skater's face contort itself into deeper confusion as he quickly put on his jacket again, hiding his new cut from prying eyes.  
___________________

The fans of Victor and Yuri were surprisingly more violent than Yuuri had expected. The name calling was to be expected, but he really hoped he had been wrong on the idea that they would throw things at him. Some let loose and threw bricks at him when he was out on his own. He could've taken the force gladly, but he knew Victor would just worry about him instead of worrying about himself, so Yuuri bled in exchange of being bruised. The scars on his under arms had started to scab while he kept the cuts on his thighs fresh.

Yuuri also noted that he was feeling more drained than usual. He couldn't really find the energy to do much, aside from train, forcing him to eat what little he could manage, and of course cutting. The bathroom mirror reflected his thinning self, a sign of bags under his eyes explaining his lack of energy. It also explained how he doesn't really remember things he did at night. Yuuri was a bit nervous about himself when Victor asked if he was alright.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just nerves you know? Anxiety is pretty common for me; you should know that by now, Victor." He joked. Yuuri felt some stress dissipate as Victor seemed to drop the subject.

Victor had been easy to shake off. The others to his dismay were more persistent in figuring him out.  
__________________

Yuuri was on his way to the waiting area as he heard voices. He halted, hiding behind the corner and peeking out to see who was around.

"Don't you notice anything...off...about Yuuri?" Phichit asked, looking from Chris, Otabek and Yuri.

"What do you mean?" Otabek questioned.

"He's not looking good. There's bags under his eyes, and doesn't his jacket look a little baggy? Like he's lost weight?"

"The fatso needs to keep weight off anyway, what's wrong with him losing more?" Yuri replied.

"That's not healthy! It's dangerous to lose too much just as it's dangerous to gain too much. I'm worried about him."

"Actually, he does seem more quiet than usual," Chris interjected. "He had been livelier than usual since Victor started to train him but, he does look tired."

"Who cares? Victor got hurt because of him anyway, so he should suffer." Yuri spat out.

"Yuri what the hell?!" Phichit yelled, anger in his face.

"Yuri, maybe you should calm down," Otabek said, gently placing a hand on the blond Russian's shoulder.

"No!" Yuri screamed, slapping away Otabek's hand. "Victor broke his ankle because he started training that dumb pig! He could possibly never return to skating now; Yuuri was the worst thing to happen to skating and he knows it! He should just retire already!"

Yuuri heard enough.

He walked out from his hiding place, making himself known to the other skaters. Their eyes widened at his appearance. Even Yuri was shocked for a moment before returning to his scowl.

Yuuri's laugh sounded distant to him. He hadn't realized that his hands found their way to his pockets, one of them playing with the edges of his razor.

"I really am the worst, huh...don't worry, I don't plan on making Victor suffer. I'll suffer for him." Yuuri said, voice hollow and eyes unfocused.

This Yuuri was...

"Yuuri? Are you okay?" Phichit asked, slowly making his way towards his friend.

"Never been better."

"Oh my god!" Chris exclaimed, "Yuuri are you hurt?"

"No...why?"

"Why are you bleeding??" Chris asked, pointing to the blossoming crimson stain on Yuuri's jacket.

'Shit shit shit, I thought I was doing ok. Did I cut myself on accident?' Yuuri cursed himself internally.

Seeing the stain, Phichit quickly closed the distance between himself and the Japanese skater. He grabbed onto Yuuri's arm, trying to yank it free from the pocket he kept his hand in.

"Yuuri let me see your hand."

"No, I'm fine, really!"

"Yuuri you're not fine if there's blood on your jacket, let me see your hand!"

It was an uneven fight; Yuuri hadn't been eating properly so he didn't have the strength to hold off Phichit. He felt his stomach drop as Phichit finally freed his hand. Panicking, he shoved the Thai skater away and turned to run. Yuuri wasn't able to get far as Phichit actually tackled him to the ground.

Two things happened then.

The first was the sound of metal hitting the ground as it flew from Yuuri's bloody hand, the razor glinting from the overhead lights as it lay on the ground.

The second was Victor's sudden appearance, eyes wide as he took in his student's position on the ground.

"Yuuri, what is happening?" Victor asked.

Yuuri didn't look at Victor. He stared desperately at his razor. He wanted nothing more than to grab it and run.

Victor followed Yuuri's gaze to a spot on the ground. Kneeling down, he picked up a razor blade, his gloved hands holding it high enough for others to see. He saw the red stains on the steel, then looked at Yuuri's hand.

"Yuuri...?" Victor started, voice gentle and eyes soft.

"Yuuri are you..." Phichit breathed, tears welling up.

Yuuri never wanted to die more than he had then. He'd rather be dead than be here right now.

He didn't fight as he let himself be lifted from the ground. He didn't protest as Victor led him back to their hotel room. He wanted to throw up as he felt the eyes of the other skaters on his back. He didn't dare ask for his razor back from Victor, nor did he protest as Victor threw it into the nearest dumpster he saw.  
_____________________

"How long have you been hurting yourself?"

Yuuri remained silent. He stared at his feet, feeling faint even sitting on his bed. Everything blending into each other, his vision filled with colors and his coach's voice buzzing in his ears.

"Yuuri."

Yuuri faintly felt the touch of slender fingers beneath his chin, eyes looking to the side instead of facing the icy blue in front of him.

"Yuuri, please. I want to know what's wrong; I love and care about you, please Yuuri." Victor pleaded gently.

Yuuri never wanted to make Victor sad. He felt like he ended up hurting him. Yuuri felt his blood run cold at the expression Victor wore.

Sadness. Hurt. Confusion. Victor looked like a lost puppy that'd been kicked. It made Yuuri disgusted with himself.

"It's my way of repenting." Yuuri managed to finally say.

"For what?"

"Your ankle. It was my fault. I'm too incompetent and you got hurt. It should've been me."

"Yuuri, you never meant for it to happen."

"That still doesn't change that it was my asking that led to it!" Yuuri yelled, finally facing Victor head on. "I injured you in the most damning way for a skater; how could I not blame myself for it?! Do you see how everyone laments for your career? Everyone is right in saying that it's my fault! I never wanted to hurt you, so it's only right that I hurt myself as payment; for you, for everyone." Yuuri could feel the all too familiar sting in his eyes and the lump in his throat take place.

Victor was speechless. All he could manage was staring in surprise at Yuuri's outburst. Victor never thought that Yuuri would feel like he had to hurt himself. Never. It unnerved Victor.

"Yuuri...where did you hurt yourself?" Victor asked, afraid of where he would find the injuries.

Yuuri didn't say anything.

"Can I...?" Victor murmured, slowly reaching out a hand. He took Yuuri's silence as confirmation.

He didn't see any on his forearms, but above the joint of the elbow were a few. Lifting Yuuri's arm, Victor found more scars.

"Is there more?"

Yuuri made a soft humming noise, Victor taking that as yes.

"Where?"

Yuuri moved his hands to splay across his thighs. Victor swallowed as he continued.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Since the day of your injury."

Victor sucked in a breath before resuming his questions.

"Can I see your legs? If you don't want to it's ok."

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise as he lowered his pants.

Victor wasn't prepared for the sight.

Lines upon lines marred his love's skin. Some were starting to heal while others looked to be fresh. There were long lines, as if Yuuri had taken to drawing on his skin, and Victor couldn't stop himself from placing his fingers on the wounds.

He took a breath, but wasn't able to stop his voice from shaking the question he didn't want to ask and that Yuuri didn't want to answer.

"Why?"

"I told you; it's punishment for hurting you. You should never have to suffer. I love you, Victor, that's why I felt I had to do this. To...to hurt myself I was taking on the pain of what the world felt towards me. I was even assaulted when alone, but I was so ready to accept whatever was thrown at me because I know I deserve it. It's my fault. Anything that goes wrong has always been my fault in the end. All the hate, all the grief; it should be mine. Never yours." Yuuri said, feeling his tears spill from his eyes. "I should just retire. That's what everyone wants anyways. I leave and I'll take all the hurt and suffering with me. It's only fair, right?"

Victor launched himself into a hug, clutching Yuuri as tightly as he could. He peppered Yuuri's hairline with kisses before resting his head on Yuuri's shoulder.

"Lyubov moya, please. Please don't think that way. You shouldn't have to take on pain on your own. You were never at fault, zevzda moya. It doesn't matter what the world thinks, all I care about is you. Your smile, your laughter, your thoughts, your fears; you are all that matters to me." He breathed, letting tears of his own fall. "Please, stop. You don't have to hurt yourself for my sake."

Yuuri was stiff from shock, letting the Russian's words sink in slowly. He held on tightly to Victor's back, weeping even more.

Both men spent hours holding each other before they let go.  
_________________

Victor released an official statement regarding his injury. He told the world that it was his own judgement that led to him over-exerting himself and injuring himself. The Russian also told the media that he was disappointed in the harsh and even violent actions towards his lover, and that they should think about what they had done. Away from the eyes of the world, Victor held Yuuri in his arms, turning himself into support so the Japanese skater would never have to resort to hurting himself again.

Phichit came by, tackling his best friend as soon as the hotel door opened. He unashamedly cried over Yuuri.

"Yuuri!! I'm sorry!"

"F-for what?" Yuuri asked, taken aback by his friend's tears.

"I just am! I'm sorry I didn't help you! I noticed you were getting thinner and tired but I didn't do anything because I didn't know how to bring it up. And now that I know you were hurting yourself I feel awful because I think maybe I could've helped sooner! I'm sorry I'm a bad friend!" Phichit spilled, wiping away his snot and tears with his sleeve.

Now it was Yuuri's turn to cry. He hugged Phichit tightly as he sobbed into his friend's clothes.

"I'm sorry I worried you Phichit; knowing how much you care makes me happy. Thank you, and I'm sorry." Yuuri muffled into the Thai skater's shoulder.

Victor made the three of them tea; and the group spent the day talking to Yuuri about anything else he had on his mind.

Phichit came by the next day, with Yuri in tow.

Yuuri wasn't expecting the younger skater to stop by, and neither did Victor. Victor stood in front of Yuuri reflexively, eyes like cold steel as he stared at Yuri. Yuri flinched, expecting it since he himself may have fueled the negative backlash against the Japanese skater. In all honesty, Yuri never planned to apologize; but after a "persuasive" conversation by a certain Thai skater, Yuri found himself here.

Yuri saw that Yuuri was wearing a short sleeve, and he found a scar. Yuri felt guilt coil in his gut and settle like a weight. He then felt disappointment and disgust, thinking he pushed someone to the point of harm.

"Listen, Yuuri," the blond Russian started, catching Yuuri off-guard at the use of his real name, "I'm sorry. I know it probably sounds fake as shit coming from me but I am. I was pissed, okay? I still am but," Yuri's eyes drifted to the scar on Yuuri's arm before settling to a spot on the floor, "I didn't-I didn't intend for things to get as bad as they did. You can hate me; I deserve it for the shit I said."

Yuuri looked at Yuri, turning over his words in his mind for some time. Victor was about to "ask" his fellow Russian skater to leave when Yuuri walked over. Looking down at Yuri, he gave him a gentle smile before slowly wrapping him in a hug.

"Thank you for apologizing, Yuri. I wasn't expecting you to, but hearing your words has made me a little better. I know that I hurt you; I hurt everyone. I never meant to, but I can't go back and change what happened. Victor means a lot to you but he means the world to me; so thank you for apologizing about what happened. I forgive you." He said.

Yuri stood paralyzed by the body wrapped around him and by what he said. Hesitantly, he hugged the older skater back.

"O-ok enough with the sappy crap; Otabek said he was taking me to a cafe and I don't want to make him wait." Yuri muttered into Yuuri's chest.

Yuuri laughed as he released him, excusing himself to use the restroom as he quickly said goodbye to Yuri.

Following Yuri out were Phichit and Victor; the latter quietly closing the door behind him.

"Thank you for saying what you said. It will do Yuuri good to know that you don't hate him." Victor said, a small smile gracing his features.

"Although," Phichit cut in, "I don't think I have to worry about you doing something like this again, right?" He asked, his smile betraying the pure venom in his voice. "Yuuri is my best friend, so if he gets hurt by anyone again, I have many followers who can ruin said person. It'd be a shame if it came to that."

"I agree." Victor said, his aura starting to match Phichit's, "I have much influence in the community, and I'll use it should something happen to my Yuuri again. You'll help us with that, won't you, Yuri?"

Yuri felt chills run down his spine.

"Yeah..."

"Good. Now go along, you said Otabek was waiting for you, weren't you?" Victor asked.

Yuri nodded and walked away, nervous as he still felt their stares on his back. As soon as he turned the corner he ran.

_'Those two are fucking scary.'_ He thought to himself.

Victor and Phichit headed back inside, Phichit heading over to finish the last of his lukewarm tea as Victor cleaned up his and Yuuri's cups.

When Yuuri came back out, he sat down on the pushed together beds he and Victor slept in. Victor sat on his left while Phichit sat on his right. Phichit put down his phone and turned towards Yuuri.

"Yuuri, I have something to tell you. I care about you a lot, and I love you as my best friend. So please, if you ever feel bad, if you ever think about hurting yourself, call me. I'm here for you, and I'll always be here. Let yourself rely on others; don't ever think you're not worth support, because you are, okay?" Phichit said, gripping his friend tightly in a hug.

"Phichit..." Yuuri breathed, moved by his best friend's care and support.

"Well, that was what I wanted to say. I gotta go, I got places to see and selfies to take! Take care, ok? And text me whenever, I'll be here for you." Phichit told Yuuri as he stood, smiling at him before heading out.

Now that they were alone, Victor took the chance to hold Yuuri's hand; his fingers intertwining with the Japanese's own.

"Yuuri, lyubov moya, I have something to say too."

"Everyone's so chatty today!" Yuuri laughed.

"Lyubov moya," Victor started, "I'm sorry. I'm your coach and your fiancé, but I failed to notice anything. But now that everything has been brought to light I have to say this; I love you, Yuuri Katsuki. I promise, from now on, to try and become strength for you. Lean on me when you grow weary, tell me when you doubt yourself, let me be a shoulder to cry on; I want to share everything with you. Your good days and bad days, your highs and lows. Allow me to support you like you will Phichit. Out of everyone in the world, you're the only one who I love with everything I have. So please," he whispered, bringing his right hand to rest on Yuuri's cheek, "let me help you. You should never have to think you have to suffer."

Yuuri stared at Victor, breathless at his speech.

"Ah..." he sighed, allowing fresh tears to fall, "can I take you up on your offer of being a shoulder to cry on?"

"Of course." Victor smiled, embracing his love, feeling the growing damp spot on his shoulder. He kissed the top of Yuuri's head as he rubbed small circles into his back, holding him for as long as he cried.

Victor lost track of time as he sat there holding Yuuri. He laughed to himself when he saw that Yuuri actually fell asleep on his shoulder. Slowly, Victor lowered the skater onto his back, pulling up the sheets on the bed. After making sure his lover was comfortable, he joined him in bed as well, reaching out to hold his hand that wore his matching gold ring.

_'Sleepy easy, zevzda moya.'_

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this idea as a dream weeks before I even watched the show so that was wild and sad and this is also a sort of vent for myself (not going into detail please understand)


End file.
